Other Peoples Tombstones
by cuddlefishprince
Summary: [00Q] Au-ish, non-comission-work. Warning! Character death, Fluff, AU-ish, Established Relationship, H/C, Drama, Mental problems A little inspired by Ben Whishaws performance in 'Peter and Alice' in the West End..
1. Chapter 1

"Take my hand", he whispered and reached out for the skinny boy.  
For a moment of hesitation, a silent moment and yet it was so noisy inside his mind. The blurring scenery around them paused and became clear, for a single moment. Someone pulled the brake of this brief period in time, to slow it down even more. And it felt endless for both of them, even though it was a few seconds only that passed on the outer world.  
This wasn't the first time everything stopped for them. There were countless moments like this, in both of their memories. And one thing every single one of them had in common: One of them remained silent while the other one kept waiting within the moment, to recieve an answer. To feel their live heading in another direction again.

* * *

Sometimes, there was no space for the presence. Sometimes everything that fitted in the very moments was the past, sneaking up in their heads. A time they tried to run from, memories that kept haunting them in their nightmares. The demons both of them carried with themselves, on their own. No one ever spoke about what had happened before. And maybe it was for good, not to waste a second on them, since the past already had enough moments on its own. Moment which were captured within the memories that better not be memorized.  
Sometimes it was the future, that kept them sleepless. When the nightmares woke them up from their slumber and the worries stroke their minds, there was a moment of redemption, as soon followed by the endlessly benighted future. They didn't know what would be the next day and it was uncertain what they would wake up to in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

It had never been easy, but that's what life is like. They kept telling themselves, to fall asleep again, at four in the morning. And when they finally understood that it wasn't the future, nor the past they were afraid of, when they finally woke up in the early morning, they knew it was the presence that haunted them. It wasn't the death that was hungering for the agend, it already got his soul, and kept it close. And he felt it everyday, from the movements, from the creaking sounds of his bones. Be it imagination, he thought, or be it reality, it wasn't meant for him to endure it for long.  
And then there was his Quartermaster, he hid his suffering from, as good as he could. The young boy, the skinny boy. Everything about him, every detail of his body and his mind, he would memorize until his very end.  
As long as he could wake up in the morning, look to his side, where the smaller one pretended to sleep humbly, he felt the gap between himself and the ending growing a little larger.  
The agend never wasted a thought on getting old, god beware, he never even thought about surviving or dieing on a mission. He never saw anything, but the target. But time had passed and he found himself a home and someone to care about and so the fear of dying moved closer and closer towards his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

"What if I wake up one morning and you are not there?"

The smell of a fresh-brewed tea, the clattering of the plates, slowly removed from the cupboards. The sounds of another Sunday morning. The city was still asleep, and even the sun was still hiding between the pure white of clouds. White as the sheets in their bed, where one of them was still struggling with the thought of getting up.  
Curly, messy hair. A hand searching for the pair of glasses on the dustless bedside locker.  
The light blur of the morning, as he experienced it, was leaded by a sentence, a question that kept haunting him for ages. And without wasting a thought on showing restraint, the words escaped his mouth within a moment. A moment he wished, in the other second, was never meant to happen. But it was the silence, the endless agony of silence that gave him shivers everytime he held the words back. Every morning and every night, ever since.

"Don't worry.", James sighed, as his eyes met the clock on the kitchens wall, an put the plates aside, "I will give you the chance to carry my dead body to a graveyard."


End file.
